Sonata
by Digital Phoenix
Summary: [DemyxLarxene] He'll write her a sonata, and play it at her grave.


A/N. Another oneshot. I've nothing else to say, but this happens to be one of my favourite improbable pairings.

Sonata

He plays his melodies every night.

Of course, people would listen.

In this case, there was _one_ nobody listening.

She pressed her ear against the door, her eyes absently squinting although she couldn't see anything but the blank white corridor. But she heard something. Of course she did. It was his nightly ritual. The soothing sound of music drifted through the door. There was a calm sense of peace like the tide rushing onto the beach. Of course, she thought. He was water. _Weak_.

She was lightning. _Strong_.

She left the door shortly after that, back to her own room.

The second night, she couldn't resist listening into his room again. Once more the music flowed through the door, calming her mind. She closed her eyes, wiping out the sight of the cold, ivory corridor. The music sung to her, called her, beckoned her. She wanted to go in, but that would prove she was a slave to his music. She told herself, he was weak. He was only ranked higher than she because he had joined first. Unlike her, he was innocent. She was aware.

The third night, she was once again at his door.

She heard him play that familiar melody he played every night. It sounded soft, and sometimes, the pitch went up like the crashing of thunder. It stirred her false emotions and almost made her feel as if she was indeed real, and not just some illusion that was doomed to fade away into darkness.

The fourth night, she spent time outside his door until the music stopped at the unearthly hours of the morning. She was tired then, but she listened on. There was silence for a few moments, but then the music started again. It was her non-life's radio, serenading her every night.

It was the fifth night since she discovered that she liked his music. She listened for a few minutes, before she noticed there was a feeling gnawing away at that empty cavity in her chest. The cavity where her heart would have been. She then decided that a week listening outside his door and not watching him play in person was _torture_.

She flung open the door.

He stared at her through the loose strands of his hair, his eyes like sea green crystals.

His surprised reaction was genuine.

Quickly, he absorbed her blank look and immediately shrunk back, thinking that she was here to hurt him or, otherwise, send a white hot bolt of lightning in his direction. He grabbed the sitar off his lap and placed it on the bed next to him.

"L-Larxene?"

He stuttered, gloved hands fisting the quilt in an act of extreme nervousness.

Realizing she had that murderous look on her face, she wiped it off immediately and took a few steps towards the nocturne, who sat there as still as he could manage, unsure whether to stay or to jump up and run. No one would save him if she wanted to kill him. The rest of the Organization members were already asleep.

"Demyx."

She stated plainly, trying to decide on the best words to say. Finally, she said,

"I like your music."

One eyebrow quirked upwards as he stopped shivering and turned to look at her. The look was brave and for once, she felt a pleasant shudder as the young man, who was usually labelled 'cute' by the other Organization members, finally showed her some of his other personality. And of course, that one she liked better. The boyish personality was adorable, though.

"Yeah, I know, I mean, I noticed."

He managed to reply, his cheeks flushing a faint red. She wanted to roll her eyes, but decided against it at the last moment, fearing it would impact his already very low self-esteem. She let him continue.

"That's why I keep playing every night. I thought you might be, um, listening outside."

He finished, hoping she didn't want to kill him at that precise moment. But he had hit the correct note. She had been listening outside. It was tiring, exhausting due to the fact that the white corridor had strange effects on the nobodies walking through. The brightness of the corridors seemed to drain her energy. Sometimes she felt as if she were in a mental asylum. She finally moved to the bed and sat down next to him. She noticed him blush even more, before his skin blanched completely. _Larxene_ was sitting next to him.

"I _was_ listening outside."

She told him.

He smiled shyly at her, before picking up his instrument again and starting another song. This time the music was even more powerful, because it was right next to her. She felt even more comfortable than she had the nights before. It was a rather classical tune, it made her feel as if she lived in some kind of fairytale palace. Then she decided again. She placed a hand on his hand, stopping the music. He turned to her, surprised.

"You don't like it?"

She silenced him by placing her lips gently onto his, and his eyes went wide. After a moment of realization, his eyelids fluttered shut and he bravely placed a hand on the nape of her neck. Her arm snaked around his waist. His lips caressed hers softly, and she let out a sigh as they broke apart. Her fingertips touched his cheek fleetingly.

She then gave him a genuine smile and left the room.

It was a week later and he had just finished his song. A loud knock signalled that someone wanted entry to his room.

"Come in."

Saix opened the door and entered, giving Demyx his usual blank look.

"Larxene has been felled by Sora, I'm here to inform you and the other members."

Saix said simply. Why didn't he show any remorse?

"Why?"

"She plotted with Marluxia against the Organization. It's her due punishment."

Demyx didn't hear anything else around him as Saix left the room. With a crash he dropped his weapon onto the ground. A crystalline tear flowed onto his cheek. He was crying. Brave souls weren't supposed to cry. And the worst part was, the pain, the sorrow was all pretense. He gave a scream and buried his head into the pillow, his frame heaving with his silent sobs. So what if she plotted against them? She was just a pretense being struggling like the rest of them.

It was a year before he was told that he would be sent on a mission to Hollow Bastion.

It was exactly a year since the day Saix informed him of Larxene's demise.

Before he left, he wrote a song and placed it on a table next to his bed.

Before the sun set, before the day was over, he was felled by Sora. And he faded.

The castle was lit with a dim light. The most innocent of the thirteen had been defeated. There was no longer song in the corridors, no longer any happiness each dark morning. Everyone went on with the usual, but there was no more cheer at each meeting, no more inquisitive questions, no more Demyx. No more nocturne. Saix returned to inspect the empty room. The paper lay untouched on the table. Picking it up, the diviner read.

It was his innocence. But it was the most mature thing he'd ever written.

_There are times when my pretense  
__Feelings fail to express  
__How I feel for someone  
__It's been a year, my dear  
__But the tears have only begun_

_I'll write you a sonata  
__And play it at your tomb  
__Please come back to me  
__And heal me of my wounds. _

Tomorrow as the day dawns  
_I'll probably not survive  
__There will be no rain without lightning  
__I might as well not be alive._

_I'll sing you a song  
__As calm as the ocean's wave  
__I'll write you a sonata, Larxene  
__And place it on your grave._


End file.
